


Hancock

by DireDigression



Series: Becoming Sole [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, hancock is in over his head already, post-killing kellogg, sole has no chill left
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DireDigression/pseuds/DireDigression
Summary: Sole has just killed the most dangerous killer in the Commonwealth. No one is going to stand between her and her son. Next stop in the search for answers: Goodneighbor.
Series: Becoming Sole [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928578
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Hancock

Sole is already dangerous by the time she meets Hancock.

She steps through the junk gate of the town, from the soft pink neon glow of the Goodneighbor sign into the harsh glare of the streetlights. Nick follows, a shadow with glowing golden eyes.

A man immediately waltzes up to her. A burly, rough-shaven man with beer on his breath and clothes that probably haven’t seen a wash in months. He pushes far too close into her space, leering down at her, but she doesn’t step back. She makes no move but to let a hand rest casually on a hip.

After a display of eyeing her up and down, he notices the shadow behind her. His bravado slips slightly and he takes a half-step back, just to the edge of polite distance. The drunken mask falls back into place. “Well well, it’s the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Why, someone stand you up?”

The mask slips again and is replaced with confusion, then a glare. “Tryin’ that, what d’ya call it, evasive language on me?” He steps forward again.

She shifts her weight, drawing the drunk’s attention.

“And who are you, huh? The new dick-in-training?”

“Not your concern.” She’s already bored of this, looking past the drunk to appraise the shops behind him. They appear to be manned by…an assaultron and a ghoul?

“Oh, it’s not, huh? Well, with that attitude, you’re gonna be in the market for a little insurance.”

Now she turns her attention to him. “Unless it’s ‘keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me’ insurance, I’m not interested.”

The drunken bravado is back in full force, and he misses the current of ice in her voice. “Now, don’t be like that. I think you’re going to like what I have on offer. You hand over everything you got in them pockets, or ‘accidents’ start happenin’ to ya. Big, bloody ‘accidents’.”

His speech is barely finished when the hand on her hip moves. A brilliant .44 presses against his forehead, and abruptly the back of his head is gone. The assaultron in the background makes a motion that could be taken as a grimace at the red now splattering its storefront.

A new figure sidles into view, tutting at the mess. She steps forward, .44 held assertively at her thigh, daring the town to try her again. She doesn’t have the patience for this. But Nick quickly steps up behind her and puts a hand over her gun arm. “He’s safe, doll.”

“Easy there, I don’t bite. Not in public, anyway.” The figure chuckles softly, hands up in a display of goodwill. “I like you already! Walk into a new place, make a show of dominance. Nice.”

Without relaxing, she takes in the figure. Another ghoul, this one dressed in an absurd costume—red frock, frilly white shirt, tricorn hat. What looks like an old-world American flag tied at his narrow hips. But somehow, the costume doesn’t make _him_ absurd.

“Well look at this, Nicky Valentine, finally back in my town.” The practiced casual look melts into a genuine grin as his black eyes meets the synth’s gold.

“Sole, this is Hancock, the mayor of Goodneighbor. It’s good to see you in one piece, John.”

“And same to you, Nicky. No missing screws?”

“None of the important ones. You lost any more toes?”

“Not lately! A drunk almost took a bit of my finger, though.” He pouts theatrically as he turns his attention back to the newcomer.

She’s dangerous. Hancock could see the ice in her eyes, even before she dropped Finn. But what doesn’t he know about dangerous? About wearing danger like a second skin, about slipping into it like the coat he wears like a suit of armor?

“Sole, eh? A pleasure to meet you.” He sketches a quick bow. “Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome…so long as you remember who’s in charge.”

She nods curtly. He gets the impression that she still considers herself in charge. It’s possible she may not be wrong.

“We’re here for the Memory Den. Which way?”

“Just follow me, sister.” He meets Nick’s eyes and is not encouraged by the glowing gold. Suppressing a rare feeling of unease, he turns and leads the two into the town.


End file.
